Celeste

2.

We walked the cobblestones in strict silence, neat shoes clicking with every step. The sun was nearing its peak, sliding over hot rooftops, fans fluttering like butterflies in its wake as noblewomen passed us by.

"You appear pale." My father suddenly spoke.

"True. Matron said I had to stay inside until my stitches are neat. That was before you left for the ship."

I feel disappointment when he doesn't even smile at my jest, only looking at the street with a thoughtful gaze, though that could have been the sun poking past the church steeple, blinding anyone in its path.
I positioned my parasol.

The church wasn't a place I liked to be due to the gossip.
Still, matron newt dragged me there every Sunday morning. I wore simple dresses, cramming a bonnet onto my morning hair, fan needed desperately in the stifling heat of the insulated church, stifling a yawn with every dreary word the vicar spoke.

It is a small town, rosewood. Known for gossipers who not only air others dirty laundry, but turn it into flags. So to speak.
My mother was captured by pirates five years ago. They never found her body, only the clothes she wore.

"Celeste?"

"Hmm?" I answered.

"Were you even listening?" He sounded quite mad.

I moved my parasol to look at his questioning gaze.
"No, father. I was deep in thought."

He harrumphed. "See it doesn't happen again. As I was saying, it is time we thought about your future. Marriage."
I stumbled on a cobblestone in surprise.

"Beg pardon?" I asked, fingers curling tighter on the smooth handle of my parasol.

"Marriage, Celeste. You are almost nineteen years, well over the age. I have heard of a dukes son in -"

"What about Eli?" I ask, forgetting my manners.

"Never interrupt a man. It is your place."

"Yes, of course. So very sorry. What about Eli?"

"He is a distraction. Nothing more. As I was saying, a dukes son in highbrow is interested. His father wants to arrange a marriage union between you both. I feel you are compatible."

"Highbrow?!" I hiss, "That's hundreds of miles away, father. You can't expect - "

"I am your father. I have to make the right choices, Celeste. A ships crow, or a dukes son? The choice is obvious."

"Mother would want me to be happy. I'm happy with Eli."

"You would be poor, no land to your name, no title to your children."

"Maybe that's what I want!"

"We shall speak of this another time. Go inside." His voice is harsh and weary. In my frustration, I had hardly noticed we had crunched onto the gravel path of the house.

It wasn't the largest house, but in its simplicity there was beauty.
Three floors high, painted custard yellow to suit the other houses, with black outlines of bay windows, and intricate doors, topped with a lone circular window. Matron's room. I had lots of them as I grew, and each one reported back to father with beady eyes.

We have a maid too, who comes every day. She's been here ever since my mother died, supporting me through grief, and often letting me sneak out if I offered her enough boiled sweets from the stall in the market.

Her name is Gloria, a bright, colourful woman, and also my best friend.
Sad, truly, I know.

I gave a huff, walking inside the house obediently. Like a hound.
Matron newt looked at me with wide eyes, almost unblinking as I entered. She shot her pale green eyes to my father, who strode inside after.

"Welcome back, sire Reed. Are you needing time alone, or wish to talk about your daughters behaviour during your time away?" She had an angelic voice when she addressed him, but I noticed the slimy way she said 'daughter'.

My father met her creepy gaze straight on. "That shall not be needed as of now, matron New, I wish to sleep in thy own bed. Leave Celeste to adjust to words exchanged. She may go to the hanging, if she so wishes - " he looked at his watch, " - the general said two, if I believe."

Newt stared at my father, before attempting something new: smiling.
Her invisible brow furrowed as she stretched her lips like a rubber band, ready to snap at any given time.
"Right away sir."
The smile fell the instant he left.

"I think I shall go to the hanging, if you don't mind, matron newt- New. Matron New." I stuttered, quickly departing before she had a chance to scold me.

My skirts flared as I slowed down my sprint, corset tightening with every breath.
I like the hangings. It may seem strange, you may think me squeamish, or headstrong, but there is a simple reason.
My mother's killers were hanged.
I was there. I wanted more, for them to feel the pain they dealt to my innocent mother, who would bring me travel journals, comb my hair every night...

I blinked away the sudden moisture in my eyes.
You can't cure grief in five years.

Children were starting to walk along side me, headed for the town gallows in the court of justice. They were leading plump parents, who gazed at each other happily. They weren't poor. Those families were on the other side of the city, boarded off, forgotten.

I stared at the couples as they passed, suits and dresses flaring with each step. They curled each other's arms like snakes about the other, gazing adoringly at chubby children chasing each other about, laughter echoing in the street.

Did I want that?

Eli's parents are teachers, only caring about discipline. Eli himself cared for myth and legend. Unicorns, fairy's, those tall green things...
You get it, I hope.

I absently twirl my parasol as I ponder.
A dukes son. I only knew highbrow was so far away because that's where my father went. I have never been. It would mean a long carriage ride to the heart of the country, three months at least.

I have heard via gossip of holidays and weddings, that it is not a place I would find myself at all.

Due to the name, you would think rolling hills and lush forest. No. Gamble houses, rowdy crowds and drunken dukes. Most estates are converted into just that; crime is at its highest there.

Or so I heard.

A sharp elbow to my side makes me jerk out of my thoughts.

A woman muttered her sorry, and moved on. I did too. The crowds had congregated at the gates, moving at a syrupy slow pace.

Towards the hanging.